


Two Hornets on a Wire (Tentative title)

by tasty0kitsune0brains



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Character Death Fix, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Like MAJOR Canon Divergence, Near Death Experiences, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers, Swearing, i have no idea how to tag this, i hope im using these tags correctly, i think this is what death fix means, starts at entry 83, unedited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27735766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasty0kitsune0brains/pseuds/tasty0kitsune0brains
Summary: When the Hooded Man falls from the second floor, Tim decides to try to help. The fall wasn't from very high, so hopefully if he gets medical attention he can recover, right? While waiting for the ambulance to arrive, Tim decides he needs to know who this man is and takes off the mask. In hindsight, he feels he should have known it was Brian. Now he needs to hope and pray Brian survives so he's not as alone in this after Jay's death.(Basically, in which Tim decides to call an ambulance instead of just taking the pills and bolting.)~This is basically my version of how Marble Hornets ends. When I watched Entry #83, the fall really didn't seem high enough to damage his body beyond repair, so Tim probably could have saved him. The way he fell was also favorable. He would have likely landed on his feet before falling on his back. His legs would have absorbed a fair bit of impact before fracturing, saving his torso from a lot of damage. He was probably knocked unconscious from hitting his head on the ground when he fell backward after landing on his feet. You know, because his legs were likely broken as hell. Also momentum, he'd have been knocked off balance. If Tim had just called a freaking ambulance --
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Entry #83

**Author's Note:**

> ((EDIT: I had my brother read this (he left the weird comment to be little shit), and he pointed out areas that sounded way too much like me. He's also never seen Marble Hornets, so he was a little confused at parts, but it's all good. I edited this as per his suggestions, so I hope it's better and sounds more like Tim and less like me.))
> 
> Apologies for the piss poor summary.
> 
> I'm writing this as "entries" instead of chapters to give a slightly more "authentic" feel, for lack of a better term. It's an ending rewrite/continuation, so I think it would be fitting to label it like the original. I know it's not the same in writing as on video, but I'm trying. I'll start off with Entry #83, though I'm starting at the part where he takes a dive instead of the beginning of the entry. We all know what happened. (Probably.) After Tim runs down the stairs, it's basically almost all canon divergence.
> 
> I've had this thought in my head for a while, and what do you know, when I decide I should actually write it, my writer's block is cured! Kind of. This is the highest word count I've written in a long time, at least. It's legit about 7-1/2 pages in Google Docs, though it is double-spaced (and in 12-point Times New Roman Font >0v-<). And I wrote it in, like, 4 hours and 38 minutes (approximately, according to my revision history) with only a small break about right in the middle to read to my sisters before they went to bed. This is very much unedited. I fear if I read it over, I'm going to end up scrapping it because I'm a very insecure perfectionist, and that has happened to me more times than I'd like to admit (with more than just writing -- literally everything I do/make). So please excuse any mistakes or ramblings and inform me of typos or whatever else. I just need to publish this before I chicken out and delete it. The same goes for every chapter I post. I'll try to read it over some time later, when I get the chance. Probably. Don't quote me on that.
> 
> Writing in Tim's tone and POV is so odd for me because we speak very differently, which makes it not only odd but also kind of difficult. If it doesn't sound like him, I'm so sorry. That's me. Although first person present tense is my comfort zone and my favorite way to write, I'm very out of my element trying to write in a way that sounds like him. If that makes sense.
> 
> I'm really stupid and will probably get a lot of things wrong in this fic. Plus, I just finished Marble Hornets last week and haven't had time to analyze and evaluate what I watched over the span of almost a year. I watched it inconsistently right before bed, and there were huge breaks between certain entries. So, I may have missed, forgotten, or misinterpreted more than a few things. Feel free to point out inaccuracies, as long as you're not being a prick.
> 
> Speaking of inaccuracies and being stupid, please let me know if I'm misusing tags. Now and in the future. I have no idea what I'm doing or what half the tags mean. Sometimes I feel like a boomer trapped in an 18-year-old's body. Also let me know of any tags you think would fit. It would be a great help.
> 
> If you have any title suggestions too, that would also be great. I'm almost as bad with titles as I am with tags. I do have reasoning behind this title, but I'm not sure I want to share it right now for fear of potentially spoiling later parts. Though you can probably guess one of the main inspirations for the title. I don't really like it much, but I must say, it is growing on me a little. Even though I just came up with it half an hour ago. It's tentative at the moment, but I may end up keeping it. Either way, if you have a suggestion, please leave a comment. I might like your idea better.
> 
> Sorry this note is so long. I tend to ramble a lot, and I also thought some things should be clarified. Notes in future chapters won't be as long, I swear. Most likely. Apologies for keeping you, and without further ado, the story.

Everything is changing so fast, the world rapidly blurring and focusing and blurring and focusing. I could already hardly stand up, and now the ground keeps getting pulled out from under me as I'm transported to a new place every two goddamn seconds. I finally gain a little footing as I see Jay, shot and bleeding out on my floor, scribbled note pages scattered everywhere. I turn just in time to see the prick in the hoodie before he turns and runs. Enraged, I scramble to my feet and chase after him, calling out. The world changes a few more times, causing me to stumble, before we're back in the school. I see a stray pipe on the ground near the wall and stagger toward it. Dragging it behind me, I turn back to the man and try to get closer. But the next thing I know, he's dangling out the window. I rush forward, but before I can get to him, he drops to the floor below. Looking over the windowsill, I see him lying flat on his back, one arm on his chest, the other outstretched. Shit.

As I turn and sprint down the stairs, I silently pray that his body is still there. I need his pills. Rounding the corner into the large, open room, I heave a sigh of relief as I see him. It looks like the pills are in his pocket. I drop to my knees next to him and root around in his front jean pocket, first pulling out a tape, which I set aside. Pills first, tape later.

 _Thank fuck,_ I think to myself as I pull out the pill bottle and dump some in my hand before hurriedly swallowing them dry. Heaving another sigh, I grab the tape and put it in my pocket. I start to shakily stand up, but a thought enters my head. I still don't know who this is and whether or not he actually played a part in what happened to Jay. He seems to be against Alex, and he hasn't actively harmed us yet, aside from taking my pills. Dick move, but he probably needed them too. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, I guess. Maybe I should check to see if he's still alive. I should at least report the body if he is dead, right?

Pulling out my phone, I dial 911 and put it on speaker as I try to check for a pulse. It's harder than it looks.

A peppy voice answers my call, "911, what's your emergency?"

I freeze for a second, unsure what to say. I definitely can't tell them I was about ready to bash this guy’s head in with a pipe just before he climbed out the window. Hesitantly, I reply, "Um, I just watched a guy fall from the second story of this building, and I'm not sure if he's okay." They ask where I am, and I recite the address.

"Alright, sir, is the man breathing?"

"Ummm…." I look around for something before settling on a broken piece of glass and holding it up to the mask where his mouth should be. I inhale sharply as it fogs and say, "Yeah, he is!"

"Okay, that's good, sir. Does it seem irregular? Are his breaths short and shallow or long and deep? Any long pauses between breaths?"

After thinking for a moment, I answer, "Short and shallow, and no long pauses."

"Okay, now can you try to find his pulse?"

Sighing, I tell them, "I already tried, but I don't think I'm doing it right." I listen as they give me instructions, trying to follow along. After a few moments, I find it. They ask if it seems slow or fast. I think for a few seconds back to my freshman biology class to remember what a pulse is supposed to sound like before warily responding, "Uh, kind of slow, I think?"

"Any visible head trauma?"

I hesitate to pull the hood off, not sure I want to find out who he is. I realize I've paused for too long trying to decide, so I just say, "I don't think so?

"That's very good. Do you know the identity of this man? Does he have any identification on him?"

The question from before pops up in my head. Chances are I know him, but do I want to know who he is? Before I can think about it too long, I answer, "No, I don't know him and can't find any identification."

"Alright. An ambulance is already on the way, sir, but I'd like you to stay on the phone with me until it arrives, okay?"

Nodding, I say, "Yeah, okay." Remembering where I am, I realize we're sitting ducks in here. I ask the dispatcher, "Um… is it okay to move him? We aren't in a very good area."

"That's probably not a good idea, sir. The fall could have broken his ribs, and moving him may cause one to puncture his lung. If he has hemorrhaging, we don't want to agitate it."

I nervously glance around before uncertainly answering, "Okay. I'm just not sure this place is safe."

"But aren't you on a college campus, sir? I recognize that address from when my cousin, Amy, went there."

Oh, Lord. The dispatcher knows Amy? Why does everything have to be related with this shit?

"Well, it's become a little run down in recent years," I reply. "I'm just worried security may not be as tight anymore, since this building is rarely visited."

I hear a sigh on the other end. "I understand, sir, but moving him could worsen his condition. If you feel you must at some point, move him very carefully. But only if a danger presents itself and you have no other option."

I nod and say, "Okay, thank you."

There's a small pause before the dispatcher says, "I’m sorry, I forgot to ask your name. It’s standard protocol every time someone calls in an emergency."

Shit. Is it a good idea to give them my name? I don't want something on file that Alex could potentially trace. He already knows I'm in the area, though, so it probably doesn't matter. It's not like he has the skills to hack into a police database anyway. Probably.

"Um, sir?"

I shake my head and answer, "Yeah, sorry. My name is Tim Wright."

"And that's short for Timothy, correct?"

I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "Yes. Sorry, I should have said my full name."

"That's quite alright. Happens all the time."

A quiet settles over the room and I keep glancing around nervously, worried that Alex or that blank-faced prick will show up at any moment. As my gaze lands on the man in front of me, I have to fight the urge to pull off his mask. I have the feeling I won’t necessarily like what I find, but that wouldn’t be too different from the current norm in my life. Everything is disappointing and upsetting lately. I might as well get it over with, since the paramedics are going to need to take the mask off when they arrive anyway.

Closing my eyes, I reach out, lightly grab the mask, and take a deep breath. Before I can chicken out, I quickly yank the mask off and stuff it in my pocket. Slowly, I open my eyes one at a time and gasp. “Holy shit.”

“Did something happen, sir?” I jump as the dispatcher’s almost panicked voice sounds from my phone next to me.

Forcing myself to stop staring at Brian’s face, I reassure them, “No, everything’s fine. Sorry. There was, um, a squirrel that jumped out and scared me.” I wince at how pathetic that sounds, but the dispatcher doesn’t question it.

“Alright. Let me know if something happens. That’s why I’m having you stay on the line until the ambulance shows up.” They pause for a second before adding, “It’s totally normal to be jumpy in a situation like this. You don’t need to be embarrassed.” For a second, I’m confused, before I realize that they must have misinterpreted my bad lying and nervousness as embarrassment.

Not sure what else to say, I simply respond, “Right, of course. Thank you.”

A few more minutes pass by in silence as I stare at Brian’s face. I can’t remember seeing it in so long. I had thought Alex had done something to him, feared that he’d killed him. Thank God he’s not dead. My best and only friend for so long. To think all this time I thought he was missing or dead, he was right in front of me. He used to be so thoughtful and caring. What happened to him to make him like this?

Before I can think about it further, I hear sirens in the distance growing louder. When I see the flashing lights finally stop outside the building, I yell out, “We’re in here!” I’d go out to lead them here since it would be quicker, but I don’t want to leave Brian. He might disappear like Jay, or Alex may come to finish him off, or --

The door suddenly slams open as the paramedics finally find us. I let out a huge sigh of relief and stand up, grabbing my phone to tell the dispatcher they arrived before hanging up, not waiting for a response. I back away as the paramedics approach, allowing them to do their jobs without interfering, just staring. One of them glances over at me, and I think my staring unnerved them. I almost apologize before a police officer stops me, asking questions about what happened.

“Well,” I start slowly, quickly spinning up a lie in my head. I point at the window he fell from, ignoring what appears to be a figure darting out of sight just as I look up. I don’t have time for hallucinations, and I can’t make a scene right now. “He was sitting up there, legs dangling over the windowsill. Then he just fell.” I abruptly turn my head to watch as the paramedics put Brian on a stretcher and start wheeling him out. No longer paying attention to the police officer or her questions, I chase after them, catching up just as they get Brian in the ambulance. “Please, I need to come with. He’s -- he’s all I have left.” My voice cracks and I just now realize how upset I am. I can feel unwelcome tears burning my eyes. Clearing my throat, I continue, “I need to know he’s okay.”

The paramedics share a look before the taller one says, “Look, kid, I’m sorry, but only family is allowed to ride in the ambulance with the patient.”

Fuck. No. Shit. What’s a good lie? “Please, I’m -- I’m his fiance. That has to count for something, right? _Please_.”

Another look is exchanged between the paramedics, sadder this time and full of pity. The taller one sighs and says, “Alright, kid. That’s good enough. Casey here will escort you to the front, but hurry.”

I nod with an unsteady smile. “Thank you so much.”


	2. Entry #84

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait! I had this sitting, completed, for quite a while because I knew it was kind of bad. I was afraid to reread it because I didn't want to delete it like I often do because parts of it were good. It was just bad as a whole. But lately I've been frustrated with being unable to write because of how sick I am, and I decided that editing was close enough and I could swing that. So here we are. Enjoy, I guess? I think this one's a lot longer than the last one.

I’ve been waiting in the lobby for hours. After arriving at the hospital, Casey had led me to the waiting room and said they’d let me know of any developments in Brian’s condition. I already know his legs are probably wrecked to shit, but if it’s taking so long, what else is wrong? Did he hit his head too hard? Did his ribs crack? Is he bleeding internally?

My anxiety won’t let me sit still, so I’ve been restlessly pacing around the empty waiting room, fiddling with the camera. Out of habit, I had put a cigarette in my mouth about ten minutes into my wait and almost started to light it before the receptionist coughed and gave me a pointed look. Glancing at the no-smoking sign on the wall next to the desk, I raised my eyebrows and gave her a weak smile. I put my lighter back in my pocket, but I left the cigarette in my mouth in the hope that the weight and familiar feeling would calm me down anyway. I feel silly pretending to smoke, but it has been helping my nerves a little bit.

About an hour in, I tried sitting down for a few minutes and felt the tape I took from Brian in my pocket. I took it out and started pacing again, and I’ve been debating whether or not to play the tape since then. I’ll have to stop recording to be able to play it in the camera. At this point, I’m too paranoid to be okay with not recording, but I need to know what’s on the tape. The sooner the better, but this might not be the right time or place. The tape may somehow draw attention to me, and I don’t want to risk that right now.

I sigh, knowing that I’m making excuses and it doesn’t matter. None of that changes what I have to do. As subtly as I can, I glance around the waiting room to make sure it’s still empty and check the parking lot through the large front windows to make sure no one’s coming. The receptionist has her headphones in and isn’t paying attention. Sighing again, I sit in the farthest corner from the front desk and slip the tape in.

It’s the Marble Hornets auditions. I don’t actually remember it very well myself. It’s kind of depressing that Alex sat in that room all day and Brian and I were the only ones who showed up. I wasn’t even planning to try out. After everything Alex has done, I see it as more pitiful than depressing, though. It’s difficult to feel bad for him.

I briefly wonder how Brian got this tape if Alex is the one who shot it, but I’m not sure I want to know at this point. He’s apparently a master at breaking and entering now.

The hoodie Brian is wearing in the tape is the same one he wore as the Hooded Man. I really should have known it was him. More and more, I see red flags that should have tipped me off. How was I so stupid? More importantly, would I have acted differently if I knew the Hooded Man was Brian? I can’t say, and that doesn’t sit well with me.

At the end of the tape, it looks like Alex is trying to shoot some B-roll footage. The camera glitches the same way as when the Operator shows up. Was it really following Alex that early on? If it just started then, right after Alex met me, does that mean it really is my fault? Or is this a later night filmed on a tape that wasn’t quite full? I find that hard to believe. He was pedantic when it came to the way he used and organized his tapes. He wouldn’t have messed up the chronological order, and he didn’t like leaving extra space on tapes.

Why did Brian have this tape with him? What was the purpose of bringing it? Did he know he was going to die - er, almost die?  _ He’s not dead yet, dammit! _ I yell at myself internally. I can’t afford to give up on him right now. He’s all I have left, and he has so many questions to answer. With his surely broken legs, it’s not like he can go anywhere, so he’ll have to answer my questions. He also won’t be able to run into danger either, so I won’t lose the last person I have in my life. Alex is so far gone he doesn’t count anymore, and we were never very close to begin with anyway.

Suddenly a door opens and a nurse enters holding a clipboard. Abruptly snapped out of my thoughts, I close the camera’s viewfinder and stand up as he looks at me and questions, “Tim Wright?” I nod, and he steps to the side, gesturing towards the hall behind him. “You can come see your fiance now. The doctor will meet you in the room and let you know his condition.” I nod again and follow as the nurse leads me down the hallway. On the way, I fidget with the camera again and switch out the tapes so I can record.

Instinctively, I try to memorize the way out, since tapes can’t be relied on in the moment. We pass two side halls before turning left into the third. The next side hall we turn right and pass three doors, one on the left and two on the right, before stopping outside the second door on the left. The nurse gestures inside, and I nod and thank him. He asks the doctor if she needs anything before leaving when she shakes her head and thanks him. I enter the room, leaving the door open behind me in case something happens and I need to leave quickly. Unfortunately, after I awkwardly take the seat she offers, she closes the door herself.

I look to Brian in the hospital bed and frown slightly, getting increasingly worried the more I look at him. When the doctor extends her hand after sitting in a swivel seat across from me, I jump and reluctantly drag my eyes away from my unconscious friend. “I’m Dr. Jenessa Hunt,” she introduces herself as I shake her hand.

I nod and respond, “I’m Tim Wright.” She gives me a reassuring smile as I pull my hand back, and I have trouble looking her in the eye for some reason. Clearing my throat, I ask, “So, is he okay? Please tell me he’s fine.”

Nodding, she responds, “Yes, Mr. Thomas will make a full recovery. I apologize for making you wait so long. We had to do many x-rays and tests to make sure he had no hemorrhaging and his internal organs were working properly. Thankfully, no major organs took too much damage. It appears your fiance landed on his legs, which saved most of his torso, as they absorbed a great deal of the impact.” Dr. Hunt wheels her chair over to the computer monitor in the corner and pulls up a group of leg and hip x-rays that make my stomach drop. She points to corresponding areas as she explains, “Unfortunately, that means his legs are broken, as I’m sure you had already guessed, but we were able to set the bones back properly. His pelvis sustained some fractures as you can see here, but luckily they’re stable and can be treated without surgery.”

Clicking the mouse, Dr. Hunt switches the screen to a set of spinal x-rays that make me feel sick to my stomach. The more I look at them, the more my own back hurts. She glances at me for a second before turning to the screen and continuing, “He sustained two burst fractures on his lower back, as you can see here, so we had to perform a lumbar corpectomy. You can see the results of that here.” With another click, the screen changes to another set of spinal x-rays, which look only marginally better. Most of the cracks are gone, and it looks like there are metal plates and screws around an area where the bone was replaced with a cage-like prosthetic. It looks really painful.

I look over to Brian lying in the hospital bed and frown. Turning back to Dr. Hunt, I ask, “Is he -- is he paralyzed?”

Shaking her head with a smile, the doctor says, “Thankfully, no. Neither his spine nor his spinal cord took enough damage. His nervous system is intact.” As I breathe a sigh of relief, she turns back to the monitor and clicks the mouse again. This time, the screen shows two skull x-rays and what looks to be a brain scan.

“Don’t be too alarmed by the fracture in the skull shown here,” she says, pointing to lines at the back of the skull. “It actually isn’t as deep as the ones in his pelvis. He landed on his feet before falling on his back, correct?” I simply nod in response, and she continues, “This was likely caused from hitting the ground a little too hard at that point.” She gestures to the brain scan. “It caused a concussion, but nothing too serious. With proper rest, he’ll be fine.”

Turning the monitor away from me, Dr. Hunt begins typing something. After a few moments, the printer next to the monitor noisily boots up and starts printing something. Standing up, she grabs the papers as they come out and says, “Avoid any strenuous activity, call if you have concerns, and bring him in if you see any of the warning signs listed on these papers. They’re a set of directions for aftercare and things to look out for, as well as a list of the diagnoses and the procedures and tests we did today. Once Mr. Thomas wakes up, we’ll have him sign at the bottom of the last page as a record that he was informed of what happened, and we’ll make a copy for you both to keep. If you’d like, we can make one copy for each of you, if you think you’ll need it.” She punctuates that last sentence by snapping closed a binder clip at the top of the stack of papers.

I give her a shaky smile and stand up as well. “No, I think one copy would do fine, thank you.”

The doctor nods and says, “We’ll need to keep Mr. Thomas here for two nights to keep an eye on him and make sure the surgery went smoothly. You’ll receive your copy of these papers upon discharge.”

Shit. Is it safe to stay here? The hospital probably has better security than anywhere else I could manage, so Brian should be safe. I look over at him lying in the hospital bed. If staying here is necessary for his recovery, it would be stupid to try to move him. I certainly can’t give him proper medical attention. Sighing, I turn back to Dr. Hunt with a forced smile. “Alright. Doctor knows best. When do you think he’ll wake up?”

Lightly shrugging, she replies, “Hard to say, really. It shouldn’t be too long now, tho--” As if on cue, a groan comes from the bed, startling us both. Dr. Hunt smiles and says, “I guess now. I’ll take my leave. Holler if you need anything, and try not to stress him out.”

She outstretches a hand and I smile, shaking it. “Thank you.” Dr. Hunt gives me one last nod before closing the door behind her. I turn to the hospital bed just as Brian’s eyes flutter open, and I think for a fleeting moment about how long it’s been since I’ve seen them. Feels like an eternity. He frowns, blinking rapidly as he looks around in confusion. It looks almost like it’s mounting into panic, so I quickly walk over. He finally notices me as I say, “Hey, calm down. It’s okay. The doctor said you shouldn’t move too much. She also said to avoid stress, but it’s a little late for that now, huh?”

Brian’s eyes widen as he looks me up and down, seemingly torn between emotions. It looks like maybe panic, fear, relief, confusion, and… disappointment? He opens and closes his mouth a few times but ultimately says nothing. I grab one of the chairs and drag it over, sitting down. A few moments pass in awkward silence as Brian looks all around the room and I just sit here, watching. Despite all the questions in my head, I’m not actually sure what to say. Brian looks like he’s still trying to figure out what happened and what’s going on.

After the silence begins to feel unbearable and it’s clear Brian is done looking around and is actually just avoiding me now, I sigh and sit up a little straighter. Crossing my arms, I start, “You know, you have to say something eventually.” Brian just looks further away from me, bowing his head. I snort, shaking my head. “Of course you’re not going to talk. Why would you? It’s only been, oh, I don’t know, three or four years? It looks like you were silent that whole time. Are you even able to talk anymore?” I let more edge creep into my voice than I wanted, my sarcastic coping method taking over without me even realizing.

Taking a deep breath, I sigh and say, “I’m sorry. You literally just had a brush with death. I shouldn’t be taking my anger out on you. Even after some of the shit you pulled.” Muttering more to myself, though Brian can probably still hear me, I mockingly add, “ ‘Oh, look, my old friend is having a seizure on the floor right in front of me after I took the pills that could have prevented that. I’ll just stay in the closet and watch. It’s okay, he  _ probably  _ won’t die.’ ” Brian ducks his head further, and I instantly regret saying that. “I’m sorry again. That was uncalled for.” I add under my breath, “Though stealing my pills was also uncalled for.” Again, bad idea. Groaning, I throw my head back and say, “I should just shut up before I say something worse.”

A strangled noise comes from Brian, and I bolt back upright, concerned. But then he clears his throat and I can tell he was trying to say something. In a very hoarse voice, he says, “No, keep talking. The silence is too loud.”

Blinking, I say, “Alright. The silence  _ is  _ rather unbearable.” I pause for a second, trying to think of something to say. As guilt hits me, I get an idea. “I don’t hold it against you, actually, now that I think about it. If you had come out of the closet, I probably would have tried to kill you, even if you were trying to help.” I pause again before laughing. “God, don’t take that out of context.”

I hear Brian snort and look up to see a grudging smile on his face. I count that as a victory, even though he’s trying to hide it. Especially because he’s trying to hide it.

“You know,” I say after a moment, “you should try speaking a little. It’s going to take a while for you to recover, so we’re going to have to spend a lot of time together again. I can’t be the only one talking the whole time.” Brain nods, but doesn’t try to say anything, which is understandable. I ask if he’d like some water, and he nods. But as I start toward the door, he grabs my sleeve. I sigh. “You want me to call the nurse?” He nods. This is understandable too. After all we’ve been through, I wouldn’t want to be alone for even a second.

I reach over and push the non-emergency “Call Nurse” button, and a few moments later the same nurse who led me through the halls opens the door. “Yes?” he asks.

I give a weak smile and say, “I’m sorry to bother you, but my fiance needs some water and doesn’t want me to leave. Would you mind helping out?” I can feel Brian’s grip tighten on my sleeve as I say “fiance”, and I realize I forgot to explain it to him. I try to subtly maneuver my hand to tap his wrist in an attempt to indicate that it’s all under control and to just go with it, but it’s an ambiguous gesture. He probably won’t understand, and I just have to hope he plays along anyway until the nurse leaves and I can explain.

The nurse chuckles and shakes his head, replying, “Not at all. I’ll be right back.” I thank him as he leaves, waiting a second after the door closes to turn back to Brian.

“Okay, I know it’s awkward and weird,” I start, “but we have to pretend we’re engaged. I sort of told them I was your fiance because they said only family was allowed to ride in the ambulance, and that was the first thing that popped into my head. You’re the only person I have left, so I was worried and desperate to make sure you survived. Also, I didn’t want you to disappear like the rest of them because of that  _ thing _ . Even if you leave right after you recover, I at least want to know someone survived.”

Brian just looks at me for a few moments, thinking. Then he looks to the counter and points at the printer. “Paper,” he strains out. I nod, pull some of the paper out of the printer, and grab him a pen from the cup by the computer. I read over his shoulder as he writes in shaky letters,  _ Why not brother? Or cousin? _

Shrugging, I honestly reply, “Fiance was just the first thing I thought of, and I felt I needed to respond quickly. Besides, it’s easy to disprove that we’re brothers or cousins. They probably would have found out right after you were checked in, and I wouldn’t have been allowed in. I think that could also get me arrested. Fiance can’t really be disproven, unless you say otherwise. You’ll need help recovering after you’re discharged, and I’m all you’ve got right now, so you wouldn’t do that.”

Brian smirks a little and writes,  _ That’s a real cocky attitude. _

The nurse walks in right as I laugh and say, “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

Eyes widening slightly, the nurse apologizes and hands me a paper cup full of water, which I hand off to Brian. “Am I interrupting something? I’m sorry, I should have knocked.”

With a small smile, I shake my head and say, “No, it’s okay. Thanks.”

He nods and says, “You’re welcome. Again, sorry for interrupting. Don’t hesitate to call again if you need anything else.”

After he leaves, I turn back to Brian and see he already finished the water. I snort and say, “Damn, that was fast.” Brian just shrugs, staring at the cup as he turns it over and over in his hands. Looking around in the awkward silence, I notice I still have the camera recording in my hand. I honestly forgot about it. This tape still has some space left, but I should save it for when I start asking Brian questions. I don’t have an empty tape on me.

“Have you been recording this whole time?” Brian’s scratchy voice makes me jump as I look up from the camera.

“Uh, yeah,” I reply. “I only meant to record the way to the room just in case, but I guess I forgot to turn it off. Why? Is that a bad thing?” He only shakes his head in response, looking back to the cup. After a small pause, I ask, “Is it okay for me to ask some questions? I know you’re probably feeling terrible.”

With a shrug, Brian says, “You might as well. You’re going to eventually anyway.” He doesn’t look up from the cup.

“Okay. I’m going to record this in case something happens and either of us lose our memory.” He shrugs again, and I take that as an “okay”. Directing the camera to Brian, I pull out the auditions tape and ask, “Why did you have this in your pocket? Why did you bother bringing it?”

He looks up briefly to see what I’m talking about. He shrugs and says, “I don’t remember.”

His voice keeps getting rougher the more he talks, and it looks like it hurts him, so I say, “You can use the paper if you want. Don’t push your voice too much.” He nods and sets the cup down, pulling the papers closer and picking up the pen. “You seemed rather prepared at the school, with the pills and the tape. Did you know what would happen? That Jay would die and you would… almost die?”

Brian shrugs, writing something before turning the paper to me. As I read, I make sure the camera is pointed at the words.  _ No. I suspected I’d  _ _ actually _ _ die, but I didn’t know for certain. Maybe that’s why I had the tape. I wouldn’t just carry it around with me unless I wanted you or Alex or Jay to find it. I either intended for it to be found on my dead body or some location in the school. _

“That makes sense,” I say, nodding. “But why did you suspect you’d die?”

Brian frowns and pulls the paper closer, writing,  _ I’m not sure. I don’t remember much, but I remember just having a strong feeling that I was going to die. _ He pauses for a second, looking down and fidgeting with the pen. It looks like he’s thinking, so I wait. After a moment, he continues, _ It was a sort of heavy dread in my gut. Like something was going to go wrong and I probably wouldn’t make it out of there. But I needed to go anyway. _ He pauses again for a brief moment.  _ Although I can’t remember anything else, that feeling is still so clear in my memory that I can almost feel it again just thinking about it. _

“I’m sorry then, we can move on,” I apologize. A moment of silence passes as he stares at the paper and I wait to see if he says, or writes, anything more. When he doesn’t, I say, “You’ve been saying you don’t remember. Do you lose your memory when you take the mask off, like I do?”

Brian snorts as he writes.  _ Losing all memory of your time behind the mask is a personal choice. You’d rather not remember, so you don’t. Some memories we have no choice but to give up, but we don’t lose all of them unless we want to. So, no, I don’t lose  _ _ all _ _ my memory, because I choose to remember what I can. That’s the difference between you and me. _

I choose to ignore the last sentence and the small stab of hurt it sends through my chest. “Why do you choose to remember?”

_ Memories are precious. I don’t want to forget who I am or what I’ve done. _

“Even if you do terrible things out of your control? Even if it wasn’t you?”

_ Who said they were out of my control? Who said that wasn’t me? _

I frown. “When I’m behind the mask, I’m not in control, that’s not me. I’m being controlled by something, by that… faceless creature.”

_ You have it wrong. Your actions aren’t controlled by it. Your emotions are. We aren’t just puppets pulled along by the Operator. It digs into your soul and brings up everything you pushed to the bottom. Everything you deemed ugly, bad, unworthy, all your negative emotions and traits that you hide or ignore, it’s all brought to the surface. It doesn’t need to control us then. We do it of our own free will, and we do it happily. If you had decided to remember, you would know this. _

My frown deepens, and I drop my arms in my lap, looking at my hands. The camera ends up pointing at the ground, but I don’t care. It can’t be true. How could it be true? I’m not that person. Brian isn’t that person. Neither of us would do any of that willingly, let alone happily. “No, that can’t be right,” I breathe out. I stand up and start pacing, hands clutching the sides of my head. “I wouldn’t do that. Not if I was myself. And the Brian I knew wouldn’t either.”

I hear Brian snort, but I don’t look up. I keep staring at the floor as I pace around the room. His pen is scratching against the paper, but I don’t still don’t look up, even when it stops. I couldn’t possibly have done any of that willingly. That’s why I can’t remember -- it wasn’t really me. But why would Brian lie? My mind is reeling, trying to reason with this new information, warring with itself. I hear something, but I can’t tell what it is through my mind’s screaming, echoing off the walls of my skull. It’s so loud, so loud, so --

Something hits me in the back of my head, snapping me out of my mental crisis as I flinch violently and hear a raspy, “Tim!” I almost curl up defensively, but I notice a paper airplane on the ground next to my foot. I look to Brian, then to the airplane, and back again. “Stop panicking. Sit down.”

With a shaky sigh, I do as he says. The second part, at least. Still working on the first. “Sorry,” I apologize.

Brian huffs and hands me a piece of paper. On it, I read,  _ You technically weren’t yourself, in the typical sense. Your personality was completely different because the Operator brought out the worst in you and messed with your head. But it was still  _ _ you _ _ , not it, because it wasn’t technically controlling you, just screwing with your mind. That’s why you could remember if you chose to (and why I  _ _ do _ _ remember), because you were still present and conscious when it happened. Now stop freaking out. It’s not a big deal. _

“But it is a big deal to me, knowing that I’m capable of that.”

_ You already knew you were capable before I told you. You were ready to kill me back in Benedict Hall, and I’m sure you were planning to kill Alex once you caught up to him, right? _

I frown, sit back in my chair, and sigh. I don’t want to admit it, but… “You’re right. God, what have I become?”

_ Who you always were, just without inhibitions, your morals overridden and suppressed by the Operator. _

I groan and say, “God, that’s only slightly reassuring.” I pause, looking back to the camera before turning to Brian again. “One last question for now. Do you regret what you did behind the mask? Any of it?”

_ No. _ “Probably not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of self-projecting in their conversation. Especially at the part where they talk about memory. I realized how much I was self-projecting when I was editing and read the line, "Memories are precious. I don’t want to forget who I am or what I’ve done." Oof. Um, anywho. Sorry about that.
> 
> In case you couldn't tell, at that last part, he's writing "No" as he says, "Probably not." I think I made that clear, but I might not have written it well.

**Author's Note:**

> I am in no way saying that my version is better or that I could write a better ending by writing and posting this. This is simply a "what if" thought that I had. I happen to like the canon ending. Even though it is fairly open-ended, for once I actually like being able to decide for myself how it ends. (Like, where Tim went from there and how Jessica is doing after all of it. And whether or not she eventually finds out what actually happened to Jay. You expect me to believe "everything is fine" and ending it was that simple?) I normally hate when I'm not given a strict ending because it often feels like sloppy/lazy writing, but I don't mind this one. It fits and makes sense.


End file.
